By Shamecca Brown-Granite State News Collaborative
There is something different about back-to-school season when you have a high school senior. You know this isn’t just another first day. There are college applications. Scholarships. Financial aid. Graduation requirements. Senior pictures. Prom. Graduation. And approximately 47 moments when somebody reminds you, “This is your last year.”
Then there is the freshman. The kid who is walking into high school for the first time, carrying a backpack that probably weighs more than they do and trying to figure out where they belong in this new world of bells, schedules, teachers, changing classrooms and expectations that suddenly feel a whole lot bigger.
In my house, I get to experience both at the same time. And somewhere between buying school supplies and trying to mentally prepare myself for the emotional roller coaster that is senior year, I started thinking about something bigger: What exactly are we sending our children back into? Because back-to-school season is usually packaged as something cute – new backpacks, sneakers, school supplies. But underneath is a much bigger conversation.
New Hampshire’s public schools served 160,323 students during the 2025-26 school year – all with different needs, different families, different challenges and different dreams. And they are not walking into the 2026-27 school year from the same starting line.
Some families spent the summer preparing for college. Some spent it preparing for kindergarten. Some are trying to figure out how they’re going to pay for school supplies. Some are worried about whether their child will receive the special education services outlined in an IEP. Some are wondering whether their child will have access to the counselor, paraprofessional, teacher or program they depended on last year.
And some parents are quietly wondering whether they can afford another school year at all.
Here in Concord, the Concord School District entered the 2026 budget season facing a roughly $17 million shortfall. That shortfall eventually resulted in difficult decisions about staffing and programs, along with a 12.2% tax increase. The district’s website has an entire section devoted to the FY27 budget. But here’s the thing: Children don’t experience budgets as spreadsheets. They experience them as people.
A position eliminated on a spreadsheet may become a familiar adult who isn’t in the building anymore. A reduction in a program may become an opportunity that disappears. A staffing shortage can mean a child waits longer for help. And when you’re the parent of a child who needs additional support, “we’re doing the best we can” doesn’t always feel good enough. Because your child’s education isn’t a luxury. It’s their future.
New Hampshire has spent years arguing about how we fund education. The arguments can get complicated very quickly. But parents don’t necessarily experience those debates as complicated policy questions. We experience them at the kitchen table. Can I afford the school supplies? Can I afford the field trip? The sports fee? The laptop? Can I take time off work for the meeting? Can I get my child the services they need? Can I afford to live in the community where my child goes to school?
And that’s where I think we sometimes lose the plot, because we talk about education as though every child walks into the classroom carrying the same backpack. They don’t.
LIke the kids whose parents have learned an entirely different educational vocabulary: IEP, 504, evaluation, accommodation, modification, paraprofessional, related services, least restrictive environment. For these families, back-to-school isn’t just about whether their child has pencils. It’s about whether the support system is actually there when the child walks through the door. When your child needs additional support, you don’t simply drop them off and hope for the best. You advocate, ask questions, attend meetings, read paperwork, make phone calls. You follow up and advocate some more.
Maybe we need to stop measuring school readiness by whether classrooms are decorated and buses are running. Maybe we start asking whether our teachers have what they need. Whether counselors have manageable caseloads. Whether children experiencing poverty have access to food. Whether families can afford to participate in school life. Whether students with disabilities are receiving meaningful support. Whether teenagers have someone to talk to when life gets ugly. Whether our seniors can see a pathway to their future. Whether our freshmen are walking into a system that will help them become the people they are capable of becoming.
We cannot talk about educational excellence while ignoring educational equity. Every child walking into a classroom deserves more than a good first day – they deserve a fair chance at a good future. So are we giving every child what they need to succeed, or are we simply hoping they figure it out on their own? Hope is not an education policy. Our kids deserve better than that.
Shamecca Brown is a New Hampshire-based columnist who is family-oriented and passionate about serving underserved communities. These articles are being shared by partners in the Granite State News Collaborative. For more information, visit collaborativenh.org.